Search For Tu-Tu

When Annie was very little we went to a Build-A-Bear-esque shop in Wal-Mart. I guess this would be the ghetto fabulous version of Build-A-Bear, but anyway. We got her a little stuffed tabby cat and at some other point a panda. They were Tu-Tu and Cocoa respectively, names chosen primarily because Annie could actually say them.

After holding on to them for years and dragging them around for God knows how long, they eventually drifted toward the back of her closet, forgotten. It's like that sad scene in Toy Story 2 where Jesse is left behind and the girl simply grows up. Except, you know, we're only talking about a few years and Randy Newman isn't singing a meloncholy song.

Well, a few weeks ago Annie 'rediscovered' her old friend and Tu-Tu and her were like peas and carrots again. They went everywhere, she sleept with the kitty, she took the kitty on trips.

Such as the one to Grandma's house last night. Where, somehow, the car door flew open as they were turning a corner.

Now this can be seen as a horrible event where thankfully no one was hurt. But someone was hurt. And that someone is a tabby stuffed cat.

Tu-Tu is gone.

Now you would imagine that this is just an object of affection, that she'll get over it.

Did I mention that before this fateful trip to Grandma's Annie made a special, specific trip to go back inside the house and get Tu-Tu so she could take the cat with her?

And now...it's gone. And now, we're struggling to find not only Tu-Tu, who seems to have disappeared from the earth (we even checked the nearby dumpster), but perhaps a replacement kitty for Annie.

"Replacements won't work," you say, but then I say you haven't heard how she squalled and screamed and cried after this cat. There has to be a way.

"You're just wasting your money. She's still gonna be upset." This is true. But Ericka has A Plan.

The Plan is this: She goes to Build-A-Bear and finds a tabby cat (they have one, we checked). She stuffs it and leaves and then--here's the clever part--she wraps it in gauze and explains to Annie that Tu-Tu had an accident and she'll need to take care of him.

I can't really tell if this is pathetic or brilliant right now. But I don't want to break the heart of my little girl.

This bit of subterfuge will surely be found out, and probably won't fly, and Annie will probably be just as angry, but you can't say we didn't try (or fret) about that poofy stuffed cat.

Stupid cat. Now I know why other parents say to keep another copy of a beloved object. So let this be a lesson: If your child really likes their bed, buy two of them.

Or something.

When you go, would you even turn to say
"I don't love you like I did yesterday"?